


One Extra Sweet Vanilla, Please

by SarkaS



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crack, Fluff and Humor, M/M, MJ is taking matters in her own hands, Not Beta Read, Peter can't do much more that watch and regret all his life choices, Wade just takes the cream, but not really au, he deserves to have it easy for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarkaS/pseuds/SarkaS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Spideypool Exchange 2016<br/>Kylie wished for a non explicit coffee shop au without sad or gory stuff, and I’m here to deliver. Not sure if it hits the AU as it should, though, just Spidey finally quitting his job in Daily Bugle and taking one in a lovely coffee shop with his best friends Gwen and MJ, much less stressful. Or is it…</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Extra Sweet Vanilla, Please

**Author's Note:**

> don’t take it too seriously XD

He did it. 

He truly did it. 

Peter inhaled and let the air out with a ‘whoosh’. The feeling of accomplishment and freedom washed over him as a tidal wave. No more screaming, no more stress, no more long hours, no more begging for paychecks- The tidal wave of contentment retreated suddenly and left Peter spluttering, cold and with a pit in his stomach. No more paychecks. 

_ No more paychecks. _

He just quit his job on a whim and without a backup plan. He’s a fucking  _ idiot _ !

 

That happened five weeks ago. The first week of unemployment was pure anguish, second week frantic panic, and the third desperate resignation and steeling himself to bite the bullet and go beg for his old job back. But Peter could imagine Jameson humiliate him in crystal clarity, and he just couldn’t. Just no.

Then luckily Gwen had had enough of his whining and helped him get a job in the coffee shop near their campus, where she and MJ worked since the beginning of their fall semester. And since it was ‘the most layback place  _ ever _ ’ as she emphasized quite often before, there were no problems to fit his new work schedule with his already quite extensive study and vigilante schedule. Which he still hadn’t had any idea how it happened. He suspected Gwen and her frighteningly competent self, as always. But all in all it meant he had enough money to study, to rent a room with a real bed, and eat more than just a ramen (he still ate it for at least half of the month, though), which was no small accomplishment. Especially with his extra curricular activities, that gave him precisely zero income and usually cost him more than he let himself think about. 

It also meant he had absolutely no social or love life, which was sad and pathetic in the eyes of everyone mundane, who didn’t know how he swings it (and probably even in the eyes of those few that did), but overall necessary sacrifice for the greater good. Except for Deadpool’s vigorous flirting every time their paths crossed, which was fairly often these last few months. It almost stopped made him so profoundly uncomfortable. Almost. But they had some kind of tentative camaraderie going on these days, so it wasn’t all bad. 

To be quite honest, he was just grateful, there was no additional stress in his life in form of meeting J. J. Jameson face to face on daily basis, because he had quite enough of that in the last few years, thank you kindly. 

 

He probably shouldn’t have rejoice quite so soon, though. Because every time, his life stops suck so much, universe tries to rectify that colossal overlook, by shoving some more crap on his head. 

Case to point, there’s been, at this particular moment, a mercenary standing in the middle of their coffee shop. Correction, not a mercenary. The mercenary. Deadpool in his all armored glory - guns, katanas, the whole shebang. His head tilted slightly to the left, as if he was listening to some particularly interesting argument, while staring right at Peter. 

Or at the board behind his back with their menu. Right. Paranoid much, Parker? This hadn’t had to be necessarily a catastrophic scenario in motion. Deadpool has no idea, who Spider-man really is, so this was just really really horrible coincidence, or something. Peter was probably a puppy killer in his past life and this was just truly bad karma. Also, his spidey sense would have warned him in any case of danger, and since nothing like that was happening, he could clearly stay calm. But than again, it never really managed to calm him, that his special ability to sense danger seemed to ignore the unstable merc, or deemed him safe. Peter wasn’t sure which of the two possibilities was more unnerving. 

 

He realised, he’s been staring at the merc almost as intently, as the merc’s been staring back, and quickly averted his eyes, just to notice, his hands started to act on their own volition, fixing his apron and shirt as if the way he looked mattered. What the hell? Peter balled them into fists and hid then under the bar, hoping no one noticed.

The merc hadn’t have a clue who Peter was, and even if he had, state of his clothes was irrelevant. Right? Right.

 

“Good morning, what can I get you, today?” Peter asked automatically the moment Deadpool came close enough. He felt his glasses slipping down his nose and pushed them back up without a thought. He realized his mistake the moment Deadpool leered behind his mask. 

“Well, hello there. Aren’t you a cute one. Also not screaming and running in opposite direction at the sight, kudos for that.” Deadpool leaned a little closer to him, and Peter was attacked full frontal with smell of gunpowder, leather, and tutti frutti bubble gum, along with traces of blood, sweat, and something that were probably Pamela’s tacos from the stand two blocks from here not so long ago. If there were some possibility that it was someone else in Deadpool’s costume, the voice and mix of smells typical for the mercenary made it clear enough it’s the one and only merc with a Mouth. Also the flirting.

Peter was used to be flirted at by Deadpool while in the costume, this on the other hand threw him out of the loop like a frikin’ catapult. 

With all defences down, he spluttered, “wha- what? I mean- what? I-”

Peter could hear MJ’s muffled giggling from where she stood just few feets away. Deadpool’s leer visibly softened under his mask, but it somehow didn’t make it any less suggestive, bordering dirty. 

“Damn right, he’s adorable,” he almost scoffed, as if answering to someone’s observation. Which he probably was, it was not the first time he did something like that in Peter’s presence. It did not help Peter get a grip in the slightest, though. He was still searching for something to say that would gain him some control over the situation, but Deadpool was, as per usual, already running three miles in the opposite direction. “That’s gonna be a double vanilla latté with extra everything and make it sweet, baby boy. Wait, no, not baby boy, that’s spoken for, we gotta give you some other nickname. But you do look really young, are you even legal, I’m not hitting at a jail bait, right? We do have  _ some _ standards after all. Not many, but some.”

Peter tried and failed to catch everything that flew from merc’s mouth, but there was just no way, he could keep his head above the water in that stream of tattered thoughts. 

“Oh, he’s legal, alright,” MJ snickered, completely ignoring Peter’s horrified look and Deadpool’s… well, everything, that should throw her off. It really should, but hanging around Spider-man for several years obviously broke her survival instincts or something. “Unattached, too.”

“MJ!” Peter most definitely did not squeak. Then turned little stiffly to Deadpool, who was chuckling. “One latté coming right up,” and promptly tried to cover himself behind the coffee machine. But MJ hip checked him out of her way and took his intended place. 

“Oh, I have this one, Peter.” She proclaimed sweetly, completely ignoring Peter’s deeply betrayed expression, twirling a marker between her fingers. “What’s the name?”

“Deadpool,” came an automatic response, before Peter could even attempt to stop himself. He did manage to not facepalm, but that too was a near thing. He knew what he’s gonna see, even before he turned his eyes to the merc. 

He. Was. Glowing. 

“We have a fan?! Ou em gee, guys did you hear that?!” 

There was nothing in the whole multiverse that could stop the blush quickly warming Peter’s face. 

“I am not- I mean- I just know- Damn! They confuse you with… em, Spider-man a lot, okay? So,” he tried, but it was not like, anyone was listening to him. Juuust great. His life sucked so hard sometimes. 

MJ gave him a raised eyebrow, while perfectly controlling rest of her face, even if her eyes were saying loud and clear she’s laughing at him almost as much as that time with marshmallows and Easy Cheese. Which they are not talking about. Ever. There is an oath and everything. Never ever. 

Then she turned to Deadpool. “How can they confuse the two of you? I mean, you are like three times of his size.”

“Hey!” Peter protested indignantly, while trying to not being too obvious about his wounded pride. He is not  _ that  _ lanky. He’s perfectly okay with his body. 

“Also, Spider-man does not use guns. Or swords.”

“Meh,” Deadpool waved his hand, not looking particularly annoyed with the collective intelligence, or the lack of it, of the city population. “They don’t really care. And the newspapers are always dicks to him, so that people have no problem believing shit about Spidey. They are dumb like that. No idea why he’s so keen on protecting them so hard.”

“Because it’s right!” Peter spits immediately, and seriously, what the hell is wrong with him? This is so not the right way how to protect your secret identity. 

Deadpool just shrugs. “Well, he  _ is _ a hero here. But  _ we _ are much more fun,” he grinned little maniacally and winked at MJ. “How much for the coffee?” 

MJ told him and Deadpool handed over what was probably thrice as much, without as much as a blink, while breathing in the smell of his extremely sweet coffee and sighing contently. “Mmmhm, just like mommy’s. I like this place, I think I’m gonna be back,” he threw frighteningly obvious glance in Peter’s direction. “See ya, Merida. Bye-bye, Petey-pie.” And with that he walked out of the shop, throwing a slutry wave over his shoulder, before the door shut behind him with a soft cling. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“So that’s the Deadpool, you’ve been complaining about hitting on you during patrols the last few months?” MJ turned to him, obviously amused by everything that just happened. “And he has no idea, who you are out of your… favorite outfit?” Peter closed his eyes, headache beginning to creep on him as sure as death. He knew exactly what’s coming. “Seems to me like he’s into you in all forms and shapes,” she grinned as the evil person she was. No one should be fooled by her bright smile and sweet eyes. She was absolutely and completely evil. The only reason why he’s not curled on floor screaming in agony is because Gwen was not here to assist her. 

“I hate you. So much,” he sighed resigned, because really, he had no chance against this level of evil mastermind. If all his foes were this talented, he would be dead sixty times over. 

“I know, honey. But don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine in about a minute or so.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, not reassured in the slightest. 

There was a sound of vibrations and a ping announcing he had a new text. The feeling of dread filled his belly, as he reached for it. And sure as hell, there was a text from strange number: 

**my costume is red, ur apron is blue, u cute ass hell, I’m gonna devour u. DP**

Peter stared at it with mouth hanging half open, before MJ pushed it up with her perfectly manicured finger. 

“I wrote him your number on the cup, duh, dummy. Don’t worry, you can thank me later.” And with that she left him stand there with his phone announcing another text:

**and that’s a promise. see ya soon Petey-pie**

He was so _ so  _ screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for like a 30k fic, but no time to write it, so this is a slightly different beginning of it made into a short fic that can stand without the back story. Maybe one day when my life isn't so hectic, I could write the more complex one.   
> Also, I'm terribly sorry for all the mistakes that are bound to be in this, there is no time for more corrections and I do not have a beta for my marvel fics, so... Sorry *winces*


End file.
